A Heart Devoid
by Sometimes Dragons
Summary: Garrett Hawke has been isolated and empty ever since Merril left him a year ago. When Bethany comes to stay, Garrett can no longer hold back the inappropriate feelings he has long harboured for his sister. M!Hawke/Bethany. Incest. Rated MA. * Now corrected the syntax error.
1. Chapter 1

A Heart Devoid

Garrett Hawke polished off the last of the bottle of Arbor Red. _Maker_. He'd had three glasses and he was feeling it. Not drunk but definitely tipsy. Everything in the room had fuzzy edges and he swayed slightly on standing. He never usually touched the stuff. He was more of a mead or brandy type of man. But Bethany was here, and she liked it, so he'd popped the bottle. It had been collecting dust ever since Lady something-or-other had gifted him it last year. Had he slept with her? Probably. It was soon after Merril left and he had been in a dark place.

This last week had been the first time he had felt whole in a long while. There had been too many wasted nights: drinking and fucking at the Rose, only to wake up with no memories and an overpriced whore crawling out of the rented bed. But there had been nothing of substance since Merril. He had his friends, but they had each other. They didn't need him, until some thugs had to be dealt with. Nobody needed him for anything other than his brawn. But Bethany did, his sweet sister. She had come back to Kirkwall to stay with him for a couple of nights after their trying journey into the Vismark Mountans. She was changed, the Grey Wardens had changed her. She was still beautiful, as beautiful as she had suddenly become when he returned from Ostagar to find a desperate, scared, talented woman in the place where a desperate, scared, talented girl had been just months before. She was ripe and voluptuous with distracting curves in all the right places. But now she was a warrior, there was steel in her eyes. She had experience and fire and Maker help him but it was as attractive as hell.

 _She's your sister,_ he had repeated in his mind earlier that evening as his eyes drifted down to her plump lips and the pink tongue that was licking wine off of them. _Your_ _ **little**_ _sister. Your baby sister._ He was a monster. But with a second glass of wine, he couldn't keep himself from checking out the way her night robe gaped at the front revealing the tops of her soft, round orbs and the deep cleavage between. His throat went dry just remembering it. He was both the luckiest man in the world for having such a vision in his life because she would hug him and kiss his cheek (as she had done earlier when she had trotted off to bed after just one glass of wine), and the unluckiest because he couldn't do what he wanted to with her. _"Look after her Garrett"_ his mother had said when they first arrived in Kirkwall. _"There are all kinds of men who will want to advantage of such a young, sweet girl. You must protect her."_ And he did. His mother would have had a fit if she ever guessed that he himself was one of the men he'd had to protect her from.

But she never really needed his protection. She was always a fantastic mage, with quick reflexes and powerful spells. And even more so now that she had fought in Maker knows how many battles against the darkspawn. She didn't flinch anymore. She didn't apologise as much either. His Bethany was truly a woman now. More woman than any of the whores he'd been using for company.

He grabbed hold of the banister as he pulled himself up the stairs, taking each step slowly to avoid falling. But he was fine really. Just a bit tired. He'd crawl into bed and sleep it off. Then in the morning he'd have to say goodbye to Bethany, for goodness knows how long, and then his mansion would be deserted again. Sandal and Bodahn had moved out long ago, and Orana was on leave not due back til next week. She didn't live here anyway. Come nightfall it was always the same. An empty house and his books. Until he gave in and walked down to the Hanged Man or up the road to the Blooming Rose.

Not tonight though. For tonight there was someone else here. He could hear her deep breathing through the ajar door and he took a step towards it and pushed it slightly further open. _Just to check on her,_ he told himself. The moon was full and she hadn't shut the drapes so the light streamed across her resting form. The blankets had been pushed to the side, it certainly was warm that night. Hawke smiled at how peaceful she looked. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, the blackness contrasting against her skin and making her seem ethereal. His eyes, unbidden, drifted down her body to check if her robe was still gaping and it was. If anything it seemed it had opened even more. _She must have been hot_ , he thought as he stepped carefully into the room. The thin fabric (he knew it was thin because when she'd hugged him goodnight, pressing herself briefly against him, he had felt her warmth radiating through it) had ridden up high and was pooling around her thighs. _How had it come to be in such a state?_ he wondered. _Was she pleasuring herself before she fell asleep? Had she pulled up the hem of her robe and slipped a hand beneath? Was she wearing undergarments even?_ His glance was fixed on her thighs but now it turned to her face. Her lips were parted and he imagined what she had looked like in her ecstasy. A groan bubbled up in his throat and he was aware that he was hard. Hard and aching painfully for his sister.

He was in his mother's bedroom looming over her only daughter, a hand pressed against his trousers to relieve the tension. His mother's bedroom. She would have cut him off, she would have kicked him out, she would have never talked to him again for fantasising about her sweet, little Bethany. But Bethany wasn't little (no she certainly wasn't) or sweet any more. Bethany was luscious. And mother was dead. There was no one to make him feel guilty for his thoughts and Bethany was asleep. She would never know.

With hasty, clumsy fingers, Hawke unbuttoned his trousers just enough to expose his throbbing member. He had been told by many a woman, and a few men, that he was blessed but he had large, familiar hands and he fell into a rhythm easily. Staring possessively at his sister, he imagined how she liked to be fucked. Surely, she had fucked many times by now. Probably by various men. He imagined her in different positions: on her back; bending over being taken from behind like a dog; riding a man from above. That last one was his favourite. Bethany in charge and with her globular, doughy breasts bouncing and accessible. He could make out the shape of them through her robe now and he was desperate to reveal them, to see them, to expose her. But he managed to hold back. He didn't want to wake her. His cock was swelling, and he closed his eyes to the sensation as he imagined his younger sister's clothes being ripped from her before being fucked by two men, spit-roasted like a boar. And, did he dare?, but he had gone this far… He imagined himself fucking her right now, climbing on top of her prone body and entering his pulsing dick into her snug, pulpy, moist hole. She would be warm and wet if she had been masturbating. And he imagined she was gloriously tight too. He would come inside her as soon as he felt her surround him. He was close, he was going to come. He wanted to be looking at her when he came. He opened his eyes, ready to grab the discarded blankets to catch his seed, and found Bethany awake and looking directly at him.

Shock and panic set in immediately and he was turned around and stuffing his quickly shrinking apologetic self back inside his trousers before he could even think reasonably. "Sorry, oh Maker, I'm so sorry" he was saying, but it was like listening to someone else. _What have I done? Maker, what have I_ _ **done**_ _?!_ He was flustered and trembling, a bearded, 200 pound rock of a man reduced to a naughty boy, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She was never going to talk to him again, she was going to leave and never come back, she...she was gripping his wrist in her delicate hand. Her long fingers twined around his arm and she tugged gently to turn him around and face her again. He let her lead him with no resistance. He had done wrong, if she was going to tell him how to fix it, he wouldn't offer argument.

"Shh," she said smiling slightly, just a slight uptick of her lips. She was sitting up, the hem of her robe reset back round her ankles, but the collar still untied and gaping. From this angle it gave a fabulous view, but he was still red in the face and contrite and he kept his eyes firmly on hers.

"Bethany, I'm s-"

"Shh Garrett," she repeated as she reached to fiddle with his trouser buttons. He hadn't had time to finish tucking himself away properly and before he knew it she had encircled his still-semi-hard cock with her small hand.

"Bethany?" he managed to croak, stuck between not believing his luck and simply not believing what was happening.

"Shh. You can always feel safe with me," she said. "I love you."

 _I love you_. It didn't taken more than that and the feel of her hand, to make him instantly stiff again. Words that he hadn't heard in over a year and words that came so naturally to Bethany. She erased the guilt. She was accepting of him. And his need for her. And she was skilled at this too. She dropped his gaze and watched his cock as she pumped him with confidence, steadily increasing her tempo. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and her eyes glazed over with desire. Garrett felt his throat bulge with a groan and he couldn't keep it in. He opened his mouth and practically growled. A raw, gravelly, lengthy sound that made Bethany's eyes widen. She looked up at him in surprise but then smiled wider, satisfied with herself and returned to the task at hand. She was working him hard now, and the motion was causing her breasts to jump and jiggle underneath her night gown. Garrett was distracted by them. He was staring. What did her nipples look like? What did they feel like? He had to know. He tugged at the fabric hard and the neckline pulled down around her shoulders. It impeded her cadence momentarily but she quickly adjusted, yanking down the fabric a little more so that her succulent udders fell out. Garrett immediately grabbed one in hand. He was a large man with large hands, but they were barely large enough to contain one of Bethany's wonderful breasts. It was huge: soft and warm and, as he had imagined, heavy. Her nipples were pink and hard. Not small but not big either. Perfect tips to her perfect bosom. He pinched one, and kneaded the doughy flesh unapologetically and Bethany made a "Mmm" noise and bit her lip. He watched himself touch her as she touched him and it was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. He had fucked a lot of women but he couldn't remember wanting a woman as badly as he wanted his sister in that moment. Maker he wanted to throw her down and bury his cock deep inside her. And the fact that it was forbidden made it even more desirable. No one would know but them. A secret pact between siblings.

"Sister," he rumbled.

Bethany smiled, a dazzling smile and locked eyes with him. "Brother," she murmured.

That nearly undid him.

"Put it in your mouth." It was supposed to be a request (he would've begged for it) but it came out rough, as an order.

Bethany didn't look offended though. If anything the glint in her eye was gleeful as she instantly obeyed her elder brother's command and bobbed her head over his pulsating member. Her mouth was hot and wet, and her tongue thick and keen. Garrett grunted. She didn't introduce him gently but sucked him in far, the head of him jammed into her throat. She made a gagging noise but didn't slow down. She pulled out and jammed him in again and Garrett stared down with enlarged eyes trying to memorise everything about this. His fiery, feisty, buxom sister who men would sell their own mothers to have a chance with, was going to town on him, her older brother. It was his responsibility to guard her virtue not destroy it. But to hell with that. He loved it. Oh Maker, he loved **her**. His member was full and quivering and ready to explode, but Garrett used all his willpower to hold off and enjoy this sensation as long as he could. Her tongue swirled quickly around him before pulling him deep into her throat one more time. She felt so good. She was the best sister any man had ever had. She grabbed his buttocks and pulled him in as deep as she could take him (he could sense her breathing through her nostrils) and hummed around him. _Hot._ He squeezed her breast hard. _Wet._ With his free hand, he held the back of her head and started thrusting in her mouth. _Wanting._ Bethany encouraged him, clamping his buttocks and pulling him into her. He thrust harder. He couldn't stop. Her breasts were both free and bouncing wildly now, and he was holding the back of her head with both hands as he fucked her throat.

"Beth, Beth, Beth," his new mantra and he liked it a lot more than _I'm sorry._ And he was coming. He pulled out and grabbed himself. With one, two long strokes, he was finishing and he sprayed hot, thick ribbons of come over his sister's breasts. He liked the way his seed trickled over the round orbs.

Silence. He was breathing hard, knackered. Slowly the buzz of his intense orgasm faded and he was left with reality. He was standing over his baby sister, having just sprayed her with his load. She was covered in the stuff. Her breasts were still on display for him, from when he pulled down her dress like an unstoppable brute. Her eyes were watering, her cheeks flushed. And she, too, was breathing laboriously. There was no questioning what he had just done. To his baby sister. He was eight years older than her. He should have known better.

 _This is where it gets awkward,_ a voice said in his head. A sober voice. The voice of reason, never speaks up until afterwards.

Garrett cleared his throat and knelt down in front of her. He had trouble looking at her. His little sister. _I took advantage of my baby sister._ But Bethany didn't have trouble looking at him. Her eyes were shining and she watched him with that smile still painted on her face. He picked up the blanket and tentatively dabbed away the evidence of what they had just done from her chest. And a little from her chin too. He couldn't help but catch her gaze as he wiped her face, and her look of love made him smile despite himself.

"I'll get you fresh blankets," he said. She nodded, still with that smile. That smile said, _I know you Garrett. I know you better than anyone._ And perhaps that was inarguable now. His own smile broadened. "I love you Bethany," he admitted.

"I know," she said. "Go and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He didn't really want to leave. He wanted to crawl into bed with her and pull her against him and slumber in her soft, warm embrace. But she had given him so much, he couldn't ask for more. So he stood up, fetched some fresh blankets for her, gave her a smile and a peck on the forehead and retired to his own room. He thought of Bethany and what had happened, and what the morning would bring, until he slipped into the Fade. He slept deeply and soundly all night, with a contented smile on his face, and a heart no longer devoid. His heart was full of love.


	2. Chapter 2

A Heart Devoid

Chapter 2

Garrett Hawke woke slowly. The sun was already shining and peeking through the gaps in his curtains. He stretched, feeling utterly content for some reason. Mid-stretch he paused as that reason came back to him. He could hear someone clattering downstairs. _Bethany._

Feelings of shame crept in, and latent desire. He hadn't been **that** drunk last night. Just enough to be brazen. But that hadn't seemed to bother his sister. No, she had seemed quite receptive. He could only hope that his memories were accurate and he hadn't forced himself on her. He would never be able to live with himself if he had.

He stood slowly. He kind of wanted to crawl under the blankets and wait until she'd left, but he couldn't. He had to face her. It was the least he could do.

He grabbed his robe where it hung at the end of his four-poster bed and pulled it on, glimpsing himself in the mirror as he did so. Usually he enjoyed his own reflection. He was an unarguably handsome man with emerald green eyes and rogueishly cropped black hair. The well-defined muscles and powerfully thick arms guaranteed victory to anyone who contracted his services. But that morning he hastily covered himself up and diverted his gaze. Until he knew how Bethany was, he couldn't look at himself.

He stepped with trepidation down the stairs. Bethany wasn't in the drawing room. The place where his dog Rowdy once would've lay was empty. He had passed away only a week after Merril moved out, died in some pointless battle when Garrett had taken on some seedy underground contracts to fill the void. The sight of the fireplace always made his stomach roil.

*Clatter* As did the sound of Bethany pottering in the kitchen. Garrett breathed deeply and headed in her direction.

 _About last night…_

 _Hey. Look, about last night…_

 _You're up early! So, about last night…_

He pushed open the door. His sister was standing over the stove.

"Um-"

"Oh Garrett, good," she turned with a dazzling smile. "You're up, I thought I was going to have to wake you. Sit down. I made breakfast." She waved the wooden spoon she was holding indicating the small wooden tale and his chair and Garrett hesitantly sat down.

"Oh."

"You're just in time."

"What are we having?"

She was wearing a thick, cotton skirt (a rich, royal blue) and a pink, frilly, high-collared shirt. The two were separated by a wide belt and no apron hid her pleasing frame. He had expected her to be decked out in her Grey Warden uniform, ready to leave. Garrett furrowed his brow.

Bethany placed a plate of boiled eggs and thick-cut bread and fried pork and beans in front of him.

"Eat up," she said sunnily before turning around to collect her own plate.

"I don't usually break my fast until midday," Garrett admitted and was surprised to see Bethany's meal was as huge as his was. "You never used to either."

"Grey Warden appetite," she said chewing around a mouth full already. Garrett couldn't help but stare as she slid another bite of pork ungracefully into her mouth. She wiped away some grease from her chin and smirked. His caught her eye and realised his distraction had been noticed. He immediately turned to his breakfast.

"You're up early," he commented, using one of his practiced lines for a conversation starter.

"Stroud runs a tight ship. I'm usually up before dawn these days."

Hawke snorted. Bethany kicked his shin.

"Only one summer, I slept til midday," she argued defensively. "I'm not a teenager any more Garrett."

"Oh I know," he quickly replied, before he could stop himself or his flirtatious tone. He dared to glance at her but she was just smirking again.

They ate the remainder of their breakfast in peace. Garrett couldn't finish his but Bethany had no problem. _Where does she put it all?_ he wondered, intensely considering her figure as she crossed the kitchen. He remembered her breasts from last night, how ample and enticing they were, but her waist was tiny. If he held her with both his hands, his fingers might even meet. And then she flared out again to a generous, delectable backside. He could imagine his hands drifting down to spread out over her juicy buttocks. She turned around and Garrett quickly snapped his eyes north again. Bethany was holding a wine bottle and waving it temptingly in the air. Her grin was cheeky. Garrett thought it was probably a bad idea.

"I thought you were leaving today," he said.

Bethany shrugged and headed back to the table with wine in one hand, not waiting for his acquiescence. On the way she scooped up two goblets with her other hand. His stomach roiled again, but not with nerves this time. It was with excitement.

She filled one goblet for herself and then raised her eyebrows at him in question. He smiled and nodded. His heart was hammering and he wanted to steady it.

She smiled with satisfaction as she filled his cup, then raised her glass in a silent toast. Garrett clinked his against hers and they dropped eye contact again as they both took a sip.

"Did you know that Carver was my first kiss?" Bethany said out of nowhere. Garrett choked on his wine, but managed to hold it in and swallow and then intrepidly looked back up with questioning eyes. Bethany swirled her goblet in ponderous circles as she continued. "We were 15, nearly 16. Mother was at the chantry but she had left me behind for once. A templar had been asking her questions recently. We were feigning some illness, an injury I think, kicked by horse or goat. Something that would have been easily mended with magic. Carver had stopped accompanying us to the reading of the chant a while back. I was pottering in the kitchen and he came in. Leaned against the wall as he watched me work. After a while I stopped and asked him "What do you want Carver?". "I've been thinking," he said. "You don't get out much. Have you even ever been kissed?" I was cross and embarrassed and turned to get back on with my work. "Didn't think so," he said, he was so smug, and then he crossed the room, took the dish from my hands and placed it down. He asked me if I'd like to try it. I was in shock but he was right, I had never been kissed and I didn't spend time with many other people, especially not my own age, and Carver always was a very handsome boy. I thought _he's my twin, we've been through everything together, why not this?_ And so we did."

Bethany looked up and caught Garrett's fixed gaze and he could see steel in her eyes. She was daring him to judge her. But Garrett was anything but judgemental. After a second she seemed satisfied, took a sip of wine and carried on.

"We started doing it often, seeking out times and places to be alone. It was practice, he said. We had an opportunity to improve our aptitude for our future lovers. But it became bolder and bolder and before long he had a hand up my shirt."

Garrett could feel every muscle in his body tense and he was leaning forward slightly, rapt with attention to hear more.

"I loved it. And I loved him. I always loved Carver so much. He was the other half of me. The more aggressive, self-assured and righteous half. And I feel like I was ready to explore the woman that I was becoming. One time, just once mind you, we were in the wood shed and I felt him pressed up hard against me and I asked him nervously if he'd like me to help him with it and he was drunk on the moment and he nodded. 'Yes please' he said." Bethany giggled. "So polite. So I did and I was happy that I had done that for him when he had awakened this **something** in me."

Bethany looked down as she placed her goblet on the table but then she looked back up and resumed their fierce eye contact but now she seemed pensive. "I wanted more. I found him one day and asked him. I asked him if he would care to make love to me. I was so worried that he would laugh in my face. He didn't do that but the rejection was just as bad. He said it was disgusting. We needed to stop what we were doing before something foolish happened. It was wrong. He said he was spending time with that girl. Peaches they called her. I don't know if it was her real name." Garrett smiled sadly, stiffly, it seemed she needed it. "So before we turned 17 it was over, and Carver pretended like nothing had ever happened between us."

"I'm sorry," Garrett said when the silence had lasted a little longer than he felt comfortable with.

Bethany shrugged one shoulder and picked up her goblet again. "He was never the man I fantasized about anyway. He was right to end it with me. We were just children playing, pretending to be adults."

The word fantasized was buzzing in Garrett's brain and he was about to ask her who it was that she had been thinking about when she spoke up of her accord.

" **You** were always a wonderful big brother. When you'd visit from Denerim...I'd anticipate it with glee, fussing, making everything just so. And then you'd be back home and everything would be so much better. Those weeks before you had to return to the army were always the happiest times of my life. You were interested in my studies, we played goofy games and gossipped together. You were more than a brother. You were my best friend."

There was an tightness in his chest, an itch that needed to be scratched. Guilt.

"But I could see the sadness in you."

Garrett's eyebrows show up. Bethany simpered sadly.

"You were always vibrant and robust and determined to do everything to ensure that our needs were met. But there were things behind your smiles that you weren't telling us. I know there were. Maybe it was things you'd seen or done. Maybe it was the people you'd killed, or the people you hadn't killed. But it was something."

Garrett opened his mouth to deny it, but the words didn't come. She was right. He had been a young man in the King's army at the time and he had had to deal with his fair share of tours, combating groups of bandits or individual murderers, rapists and general wrong-doers. He had always been dogged in his conviction that he not take any of that home whenever he returned to Lothering.

"At night you would slip away, out to drink and to pick up women and forget whatever it was that troubled you so. But you would never stay with them. I'd hear you creep in late, in the dead of night, stepping carefully past my room back to the one you shared with Carver. I'd always wish you'd come in and see me then. When you needed someone the most. I wanted you to crawl into bed with me. I would have held you and listened if you needed to talk or just been there for you if you didn't." She breathed shakily through those lovely bow-shaped lips. Garrett's mouth was dry, he worked his gums and licked the roof of his mouth to try and stimulate some saliva. "I wanted to be everything to you Garrett. I wanted you to play with me and be silly with me, of course, but I wanted you to see me too. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at those other women in Lothering. The ones from Dane's Refuge." She tilted her head to one side and regarded him softly, with a gentle smile to match her eyes. "Like the way you looked at me last night."

Garrett was struck in the chest with the reference to it. To the thing they had done. There was no hiding from it now. He had fucked his sister's mouth and now she was talking about it. But she was looking at him with unconditional love and that blow to the chest dissolved into a warm fuzz. Bethany made him feel accepted in a whole, pure way that only Bethany could.

She stood up suddenly, pushing her chair back from the table with a loud, scraping sound.

"I have some business to attend to in Hightown today. But I've decided to stay for one more night, so I'll see you this evening."

Garrett managed a mute nod and Bethany, happy enough with that, whirled around and left him there in the kitchen. He realised he hadn't spoken one word in five minutes. He stared at the door she had disappeared through til long after he heard the front door shut, and he had to drain his full goblet of wine before he had the mental faculties required to stand again.


End file.
